


Memories

by fireflysglow_archivist



Category: Firefly
Genre: F/F, F/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-12-11
Updated: 2002-12-11
Packaged: 2019-04-29 06:02:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14466552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fireflysglow_archivist/pseuds/fireflysglow_archivist
Summary: Zoe and Wash are having majormajor problems, so when Zoe falls, Mal's there to pick up the pieces.  He reminisces about the affair he had with her while they served in the Independent Army.





	Memories

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Firefly’s Glow](https://fanlore.org/wiki/Firefly%27s_Glow), and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2018. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Firefly's Glow collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/fireflysglow/profile).

 

Memories

## Memories

### by Arsahi

Memories  
Chapter One: The Triumphant 

Okay. Don't get oogy on me. I wrote this fic with three pairings in mind: Mal/Zoe ('cause Wash just doesn't suit her and Inara just doesn't suit him), River/Kaylee ('cause of "War Stories"), and Inara/Simon ('cause I think they're cute). However, this is going to revolve mostly around Mal/Zoe, 'cause this is about the war. Muah. 

Also keep in mind that Mal and Zoe were young and stupid. I'd wager that Mal and Zoe are between 30 and 32 in Firefly, so I'll say this was back when they were 23 - 25. So if Zoe and Mal act out of character it's 'cause they haven't had as much battle experience and experience with carnage as they have on the show. (i.e. Zoe's pretty sarcastic and dry witted and Mal's somewhat of a chauvanist.) 

Er, this is my veryveryvery first Firefly fanfic. But, um, yeah. No flames, pleasies. But I would like at least five reviews before I write chapter two! (And, if you're a Tamora Pierce fan with a penchant for the Kel/Neal persuasion, please read Free Falling!). 

  * The Triumphant __



The crew of the Serenity sat around the table at breakfast. Everyone sat at their normal spots, some not so keen to wake as the others. Malcolm Reynolds and Zoe talked quietly, loud enough for the rest of the members to hear, but soft enough not to bombard those not entirely awake with words. Wash stared at his food, unblinking, trying to get his mind to wake up. It wouldn't do for the ship's navigator to run them into an asteroid, even if they had already set the course to planet Lucivus two days prior. He still had to watch for Alliance ships, unwelcome drifters, and stray asteroids or comets. No, it simply wouldn't do if Wash ran them into something or someone. 

Jayne didn't seem too awake either. He mechanically shoveled food into his waiting mouth, much to Kaylee's and Simon's disgust. Those two had woken up earlier than the rest of the crew, Kaylee having come to him with flu symptoms. River played with her food as Kaylee watched, a small smile playing on her lips once she stopped watching Jayne eat. Book, called Shep or Shepherd or Preacher by the rest of the crew, had semi-woken up. Inara, however, still slept in her room. She had had a client the day before at a pit stop on planet Nilks, so Mal excused it. 

Jayne looked up suddenly. "Why does the whore get to sleep in?" 

"She ain't a whore," Mal and Kaylee said at the same time. 

Simon just glared at Jayne. "I'm quite certain that if you had had one of Inara's clientele yesterday you would have been excused to sleep in as well." 

Jayne just glared at the lot of them. "I didn't realize she was fixin' to take all y'all on as customers." 

"Now, Jayne, you know Inara doesn't take on customers on my boat." Mal looked at Jayne as if he had thrown a tantrum. 

"I just wanted to know why the hell she gets to sleep in while the rest of us hafta get up at the crack of artificial dawn and work about this boat," Jayne grumbled. 

Simon kicked him under the table. 

"The hell?!" he jumped up, his chair knocking over. "Which of you kicked me?!" 

"Kicked you?" Zoe repeated. Her eyebrows rose almost to her hairline. "Why would someone kick you?" 

River started singing a song. "We are all made of stars..." 

Looking at River as if she had no brain at all, Jayne picked up his chair and sat back down. "Whatever." 

Mal finished his breakfast and set his plate in the sink. "Who's up for cleanin' our dishes today?" 

"Preacher and Jayne, if I'm not mistaken, sir," Zoe replied. She snuck a look at Jayne in time to see his flabbergasted, bewildered look. It quickly grew angry, but Kaylee kicked him under the table this time. 

"Don't you say a word, Jayne," Kaylee told him, sounding like his mother. "All us gotta pitch in to keep Serenity fit." 

Jayne buried his hands in his short hair. "This ain't funny. First I don't get to sleep in, I get kicked in the damn shin twice, and now I'm on dish duty all day?" 

"Guess it ain't your day," Mal said flippantly. He rose and stretched, turning to Zoe. "C'mon. Let's get on our plan for Lucivus." 

"Wait a second," Wash interrupted, standing as the rest of the table did. He caught his wife's arm and looked pointedly at Mal. "I thought you said you had everything planned out and Zoe could spend the day with me." 

"I changed my mind," Mal argued. The preacher and Jayne set to work on the dishes while Kaylee, Simon, and River slipped out of the room. "I'm the captain. It's my perogative to change my mind." 

"She's my wife, Mal," Wash glared. "Give her one day. A half a day even." 

"Oh hell we aren't going to start this fight again, are we?" Mal asked impatiently. "Wash, just let the woman go and I'll give her back after I finish going over the plan with her." 

Zoe removed her husband's hand and looked at him apologetically. "Sorry, Wash." 

"This is great. You pay more attention to him than you pay to me, and I'm your husband, Zoe!" Wash cried. His expression changed and he shook his head. "You know what? I don't care. Take all the time you need with him. I'll just take care of this boat." 

"Wash..." Zoe began but he had already breezed past her. She shot a dirty look at Mal and took off after him. Mal, sighing, looked at Book and Jayne. 

"What do you think you two are gaping at?" 

"Why the hell does she even bother with him?" Jayne asked, motioning with a knife. Book leaned backwards every time Jayne moved it. 

"I reckon it's beyond me and right beyond you too, Jayne," Mal answered. "Don't you have some dishes that need cleanin'?" 

Jayne rolled his eyes and went back to scrubbing his dishes. "I just don't see why she ain't with a fella like you, Mal." 

"Neither do I," Mal agreed. He left the kitchen. 

* * *

Mal had gone down into his room, not caring much to stay up and watch his crew. He just wanted to grab a few things and then he would go out to Inara's pod and wake her up. At least, he would have if he didn't hear Wash's heated voice yelling at Zoe, and Zoe's softer, murderously toned reply. Unintentionally, Mal tightened his hand around a stack of papers he had just grabbed off of his table. He had never allowed anyone to talk to Zoe like that back in the war. 

If she had just listened to him when he told her not to marry Wash... 

"Zoe, please." 

"Sir, I love him." 

Brief pause. 

"Inter-crew relationships are right strictly forbidden on my boat." 

"Sir, no disrespect intended, but you can take that rule and shove it." 

"Zoe...please. Please, Zoe, don't marry him." 

"...Get up, sir. Don't get on your knees like that." 

"Zoe, I'm begging you. Please don't marry him! He's only right trouble!" 

"I'm well aware of that, sir. Please get up. I'm going to marry him whether you approve or not." 

Pause. 

"I really can't talk you out of it?" 

"You really can't, sir." 

"I see." 

Mal looked up at the hatch leading out of his room and heard something heavy fall to the floor above. His mind immediately turned to Zoe because the sounds of their argument had died abruptly, so he climbed the ladder and flipped the hatch up quickly. Jumping out of the hole, he stalked down the length of his boat to find Zoe coming straight at him. "Zoe?" 

She looked at him, a brief lapse in her usually stoic visage allowing him a glimpse at how much Wash had hurt her heart. Dropping the papers he didn't realize he had held, he gathered her up in his arms. "Mal..." 

Zoe hadn't called him by his name in years. 

Taking a glance around, Malcolm took Zoe by the hand and led her down to his room. He wanted some place for them to talk quietly, away from the prying eyes of the other members of the Serenity. "What did he say to you?" he asked, once they found themselves alone. "Did he harm you? Gorram...of course he hurt you." 

Zoe shook her head. "I really don't want to talk about it." 

Mal studied her face for a moment and, in a rare show of emotion, leaned forward and kissed her forehead. Containing her astonishment, Zoe simply folded her legs up on his bed, letting her arms dangle off of her knees at the elbows. "So what do you want to talk about?" 

Zoe sat and thought for a moment, finding herself leaning against Mal as he sat next to her on the bed. "How did you come across the Triumphant?" 

Mal smiled. "Ah, the Triumphant. Haven't heard her name in a right long while. I reckon I oughtta think way back to when I first got promoted to sergeant..." 

* * *

"Lieutenant Reynolds." The commander of the Independent Army stood to shake hands with Mal as he entered the man's office. 

"Commander." Mal shook his hand and took a seat across from him, on the opposite side of the desk. 

"I suppose you're right curious about why I called you here today," the Commander surmised. 

Mal nodded. "Yes sir, I'm right curious about why I'm here. I don't recall breaking any rules as of late, sir." 

The Commander chuckled. "Yes, well, I suppose that's always a good thing. Tell me, Lieutenant, have you ever wanted command of your own boat?" 

Mal fought to keep the hope from creeping into his voice. "Yes, sir. I've always wanted command of my own boat, sir." 

"Looks as if you'll get your dream. I've promoted you to sergeant, Reynolds. However, I've given you a whole new squad to command. Don't fail me, Sergeant Reynolds," the Commander warned. "You fail me and I may think twice about ever giving you command of a squad again." 

"Yes, sir," Mal stood and saluted. "Where is my boat, sir?" 

"Dock Four," the Commander replied. 

"Thank you, sir," Mal saluted again and walked out of the Commander's office, hardly containing his excitement. He took off down the hallway of the space station that served as the Independent Army's base and skidded to a halt in front of Dock Four. He could see his ship floating with the rest of the station and he could barely stop himself from opening the airlock and jumping out on her. So, he walked around to the door and opened it, boarding his beautiful, if a bit used and dull around the edges, battle ship. 

"She ain't much, but she'll do," drawled a voice from the top of the cargo bay. The battle ship was simply a modified firefly class, nicknamed the honeybee. 

Mal looked up at a tall man with thick black hair trailing to his shoulders and bright, alert green eyes. "Who are you and why are you on my boat?" 

"They call me Private Michael Andrews, resident engine tech," he introduced himself. "And you must be Sergeant Malcolm Reynolds." 

"I might," Mal conceded. "What did you do to her?" 

"During a routine test earlier, her engine shot. They called me, the best of the best, down to fix 'er up for ya," Michael replied. "This honeybee ain't much, like I said, but she has a promisin' engine. Can't tell you much 'bout her weapons fixup, but her engine purrs like a kitten now." 

"...Thanks," Mal said awkwardly. "Did they assign you to my crew?" 

"I'd reckon so," Michael shrugged. "If not, I'd love to stay. This honeybee feels a lot like home and I've only stayed on her less than three days." 

"You've lived on my boat for three days?!" Mal cried. 

"Suppose he'll live here a while longer too," piped up an innocent voice behind Mal. He whirled to see a young woman, her greenness showing in her innocence. "Name's Doctor Faye McClemor. Hey Mike, where'd they put the clinic on this honeybee?" 

Mal's eyes widened. "You...they assigned you as medic on my boat?!" 

Faye stiffened. "Yeah, you got a problem with it?" 

Instead of answering, Mal just stared. 

"C'mon Faye, I'll show you the clinic," Michael--or Mike as they seemed to call him--said from his position on the cargo bay stairs. Faye brushed past Mal, her curly blond hair nearly blinding him. 

"This ain't right," Mal muttered. "I can't have no green quack of a doctor on my squad..." 

"I'd suggest you get used to it," said another new voice. 

"Now who in the name of all nine hells are you?" Mal demanded, turning to face the newcomer. 

The newcomer, a short brunette of a man with brown eyes standing next to a man who looked just like him, walked up to Mal and held out his hand. "Private Ross Nichols, and my cousin, Private David Corters." 

Mal reluctantly shook their hands. "How many more of you lot might come?" 

"Who came already?" David--at least, Mal thought it was David--asked. 

"Faye, me, and you two," Mike said from the stairs again. "Faye wants to get herself settled in the clinic whilst I come to greet any newcomers our unfriendly sergeant might try and scare off." 

Ross and David climbed the stairs to join Mike, exchanged brief words, and then disappeared into the rest of the honeybee. Mal, helpless, stood in the middle of the cargo bay, just watching for anyone else who would come aboard. He didn't have to wait long because shortly, a woman dressed in the pristine white robes of a priestess of the gods--customary on any ship, should any of the crew die in battle--along with an insanely short man with golden blond hair entered. 

"Sergeant Malcolm Reynolds, I presume?" the priestess asked. Finding his voice useless, Mal just nodded. "Caryn Hellesfield, Priestess of the Gods of the Universe." 

"Roger the Victorius," the short man introduced himself. 

"I reckon most all of you will have to wear nametags. I ain't real good about remembering names," Mal sighed. "Welcome aboard my boat." 

Mike waved to them. "Hello Rog, hello Caryn." 

"Shove it, Michael," Caryn answered. 

"Bitter old hag," Roger informed her. 

"I fail to see the truth in any of your comment. I am neither bitter, nor old, nor am I hag," she rapped him on the head as they disappeared into the rest of the ship. 

Mike then asked Mal a question. "Hey Serge, what do you want to name this girl?" 

Mal knew the answer before Mike had even finished the question. "The Triumphant." 

Mike grinned. "Yeah baby!" he cried. "Oh and we have three more comin'. We have your first mate, the ship's weaponsmaster for the outside, and the cook. If I ain't mistaken, I think I see Christian and Lustra comin' this way now." 

Mal was ready when Christian Lewis, the ship's weaponsmaster, and Lustra Boresp, the ship's cook, entered the boat. He greeted them with a firm handshake and a "welcome aboard". 

"Where the hell has Deluka gotten to?" Mike muttered, but it echoed through the cargo bay. 

"Deluka's my first mate? Where'd he go?" Mal asked. 

"She," Zoe Deluka corrected from the doorway. 

"Ah, the lovely Zoe Deluka. Cap'n, your first mate." 

"...She ain't my first mate. She can't be a first mate. She's a..." Mal tried to protest. 

"A girl? How keen of you to notice," Zoe finished dryly. 

Mal watched Zoe walk up the stairs and suddenly, his feet decided to follow. Mike watch the proceedings curiously, having never seen such a display involving the stoic Lieutenant Deluka. 

"No," Mal said finally. "This ain't right. Lieutenant Deluka ain't a woman!" 

Zoe rounded on Mal in a rare show of emotion.. "Oh? Why not, you pigheaded chauvanist?" 

"'Cause it ain't right," Mal growled. "Lieutenantin' is a man's job; women are all soft--" he jumped back as Zoe's knee came dangerously close to the gap between his legs. 

"Excuse me, Reynolds? Women are soft?" Zoe lowered her leg. 

"You can't talk to me like that, Lieutenant," Mal informed her. "This boat belongs to me. I named her. She and the crew on it answer to me. You can right desert if you want." 

Zoe arched an eyebrow at him. "I suppose if I could understand what the hell you had just said I would consider 'right deserting'." 

Mike broke in. "He said, 'you can't talk to me like that, Lieutenant. This ship belongs to me. I named her. She and the crew on it answer to me. You can desert if you want.'" 

Zoe adopted a blank stare and looked to Mike. "Thank you ever so, Mike." 

Flushing with shame, Mike excused himself. Mal watched him go and looked back at Zoe. "This ain't over." 

"Isn't," Zoe corrected. 

"What?" Mal frowned at her. 

"This isn't over," she reiterated. 

"I just said that. This ain't over." 

"'Ain't' ain't good grammar," she quoted. 

"Don't care." 

"How do you expect anyone to respect you then? Didn't you go to school?" 

"Yes." 

"You sat in the back, sleeping all day, did you not?" 

"Ain't none of your business." 

"Isn't any." 

"I don't have time for this." 

"Wow. A grammatically correct statement." 

Zoe walked off to the bridge, leaving Mal to inspect the ship. It seemed as if everyone knew about the Triumphant before he actually had, and this pissed him off somewhat. He supposed, though, that he had rather have a crew to maintain the Triumphant before he took off in her without them. Mal inspected the rooms and found them below the deck, small little cozy things with just enough room to sleep in and die in unnoticed. Little more than tiny holes with concealed hatches. 

"Afternoon, Lieutenant," Roger the Victorious greeted Zoe. 

"Afternoon, Deluka," Christian nodded. "This ship a--isn't half bad." 

"Oh? Did they install decent weapons on her?" Zoe asked, leaning half on Christian's chair and half on the controls. 

"Does this army ever install decent weapons?" Christian asked saucily. 

"No, and I don't suppose the war will help stock our funds," Zoe sighed. 

Mal, apparently, found the intercom system then. "Attention all crew members and female first mates, please report to the cargo bay at once. Ain't no exceptions, lest you happen to be the cook. All crew members and female first mates except for the cook, report to the cargo bay immediately." 

"I shouldn't show up just because he irritates me," Zoe muttered. 

Roger, however, jumped up and tugged on Zoe's arm. "Come on, you know you have to come. You signed up as his lieutenant anyway, didn't you?" 

Zoe rolled her eyes. "Before I knew what an asshole he is." 

"It doesn't matter now. You serve under his command, right? So do Christian and I. So let's go." 

"I picked out livin' spaces for you lot," Mal announced, the last to join them at the cargo bay. He stood on the stairs where Mike had stood just a half-hour earlier. "Our cook--Lustra?" the group nodded. "She has livin' space next to the kitchen, specifically for her." He pulled a list from his pocket and began to read off of it. "Faye?" she stepped forward. "I stationed you in the room next to the clinic, as you probably had guessed. Christian, Roger? You lot are on either sides of the bridge. Caryn, you have a pod." He pointed. "Zoe, you get the one she don't want. David, Ross, you two have rooms down yond. There's two of 'em, right there." He pointed again. "Mike, you get the room by the engine bay like you already claimed. And...who'd I miss? Of, me. I get a room under the deck in the center of this boat." Everyone turned to leave. "Hey! I ain't dismissin' you yet. Commander said we can leave for the rendezvous point on Yaslith, Verula, now. I say the faster we get this ship afloat, the faster we start workin' on teamwork. Now you can can go." 

He watched Zoe climb the stairs and smirked at her as she walked by. She stepped on his foot and continued going to the pods, waiting for Caryn once there. Mal observed, shaking out his throbbing foot, and made a note on his paper which female took which pod. He smirked again when she chose Pod 2, the furthest away from his room. He had given her a pod to allow her the chance to desert whenever she felt like it, and, to distance himself from her. He knew he had just preached to everyone about teamwork, and he didn't set a good example by separating himself from the first mate, but he couldn't help it. She hadn't argued it either. 

Shrugging, Mal walked out to the bridge and stood in between Roger's and Christian's chairs. He then got an idea. He looked at Roger and struggled to remember his name. "Richard--" 

"Roger," he corrected absently. 

"The Victorious," Christian added. 

"Roger," Mal nodded. "Let the captain take her out on her first spin?" 

Roger looked at the small holding bay the Triumphant sat in and thought about it. "Have you ever backed a honeybee out of a bay like this?" 

Mal shook his head. "I gotta learn sometime though, don't I?" 

Looking down at the controls, Roger sighed. "Sir, if I may, I rather don't feel much like dying today, especially not with eight other people I know pretty well." 

Mal pursed his lips and crossed his arms over his chest. "Fine. But you let me drive her before we set on course for Yaslith." 

"Aye aye, Cap'n," Roger nodded. He reached for the switch to start the first set of pistons in the honeybee's engine only to get stopped by Christian. 

"Maybe we should ask Mike if everything's set first," he suggested. 

Mal sighed. "All right, all right." He disappeared and moments later, his voice boomed over the intercom. "Mike, report to the bridge immediately. Mike, report to the bridge immediately." His voice vanished and Mal reappeared in the bridge, waiting for Mike to show up. Mike ran in, panting. "There you are." 

Mike glared and straightened up. "What do you need?" 

Roger cut in before Mal's scathing tongue could reply. "Does the engine work for zero-g flight? Obviously she works for zero-g standby, but O Glorious Captain wants to leave." 

"Yeah, she'll work," Mike sighed. "Set her on cruise course for Yaslith as soon as we can though. I need some parts for her engine that shot when she did, and you might wanna warn Caryn and Zoe of leavin' off in those pods, I haven't had a chance to maintenance those engines." He paused and added under his breath, "Not that I have a damn thing to maintenance with." 

"All right. Let's start 'er up already!" Mal ordered impatiently. 

"Yes, sir!" 

The Triumphant stirred to life, shaking at first, her engine rumbling louder than it should have because of the holding bay walls, but soon began to lessen in volume. Roger pulled her out of the holding bay, the tethers holding her there having been removed earlier, and he whirled her around. Flipping the gears into a normal speed, Roger typed in a few commands, keeping her at the same steady speed as he locked on a course for Yaslith, way out of the way of Alliance radar. 

Mal watched out of the window as stars passed them by, and smiled to himself. 

He had done it. He had finally done it. He had gotten his own ship, achieved the rank of sergeant...and he now looked out over the vastness of the universe. 

Malcolm Reynolds felt invincible. 

#### If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to Arsahi


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